


Guardkeeper

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family Relationships - Freeform, Gen, Guilt, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3382292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fingolfin asks Maedhros to stay at his court in Hithlum, but Maedhros has another purpose in going east and taking up his seat on Himring Hill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guardkeeper

“Nelyafinwë” said Ñolofinwë quietly, grasping Maitimo’s sleeve as he made to leave the council room after his brothers and cousins, “a word, if you please?”

Maitimo nodded, following his uncle back into the chamber.

Ñolofinwë turned to face him, unrolling the map once more on the table. The two of them contemplated the notes they had made on it during the meeting in silence for a while, before Maitimo spoke. “You wanted to speak to me alone?”

“Yes” said Ñolofinwë, distractedly. He traced his fingers over the neatly inked mountains at the top of the map. “Nelyo, I want you to know that there is always a place for you at Barad Eithel, if you should wish to be… more a part of things than you would be out there in the east. You would have a high place on the council, similar to mine in my father’s court in Tirion.”

Maitimo raised an eyebrow, dropping his head respectfully. “You honour me, uncle. But with respect, I was under the impression that I would be…  _a part of things_ , as you put it, regardless.”

“True” said Ñolofinwë, inclining his head. “But Nelyo, this hill that you have chosen for your seat in the north…” he traced his fingers over the map again, shaking his head. “I fear that if the enemy strikes you will bear the brunt of the assault.”

“You fear me not strong enough to hold the Marches, you mean.”

“No! No, that is not what I am trying to tell you.”

“Then what are you trying to tell me?”

Ñolofinwë sighed. “Nelyo, I am still worried about you. You went through so much, so many terrible things, and - ”

“Do you fear that I will break?”

“No, that’s not it either. Please stop interrupting me and listen to what I am trying to tell you.”

“I am sorry, uncle.”

“You cannot protect everyone alone, nor do you need to. Someone must hold the east, but it does not necessarily have to be you. And even if you would still go, you have your brothers and the sons of Arafinwë to help you. The lands you have mapped out… I can see you are trying to shield them from any and all danger from the enemy, but they came here to fight this war too, you know. You are not the only one who hates Moringotto.” He sighed and laid a hand on Maitimo’ unbraced shoulder, lightly. “I worry that you too willingly put yourself in harm’s way, going over and above what is required of you, in an attempt to prove something.”

Maitimo’ mouth quirked up at one corner in a smile that was twisted by the scar that ran over his lip. “And what might I be trying to prove?”

Ñolofinwë spread his hands before him. “You tell me. Besides, you have other talents. None of your brothers is half as skilled a diplomat and strategist as you, nor do they have the patience and grace to deal with emissaries of the other peoples of this land. I trust you more than I ever trusted your father; I owe my crown to you. Know that I value your advice, Nelyafinwë. I would have you beside me, both in battle and at the council table.”

“You say you value my advice and in the same breath you tell me I am wrong” said Maitimo mildly.

“In this matter” said Ñolofinwë. “Yes, I do.”

Maitimo laughed quietly. “Uncle, look at me, and tell me what you see.”

Ñolofinwë sighed. “Nelyo, I will not - ”

“I am no longer the fair and well spoken prince of Tirion, the promising young darling of King Finwë’s court, in case you had not noticed.” He extended the stump of his right arm into the space between them with a bitter chuckle, before pushing back the sweep of short-cropped hair that had fallen across his face to reveal the ridged scars that were slashed across it. “And as for strategy, well… evidence of my failure is graven across my face. I do not think I am the one you need beside you, especially to show to your foreign guests.”

Ñolofinwë gave an exasperated sigh. “You made a mistake once, yes; the enemy lured you into a trap. Now you know better. You cannot let that dictate your life from now on. This is exactly what I am talking about; you are punishing yourself, for no cause. You have already suffered enough; far too much.”

Maitimo’ voice was bitter, hollow. “ _No cause?_  Have you forgotten the Oath? Alqualondë? Have you forgotten the Ice so soon, uncle? If I truly  _punish myself_  as you say, I do not lack cause to.”

Ñolofinwë’s face darkened suddenly then, and he seemed to loom over Maitimo, though his nephew was taller. “You presume too much, Nelyafinwë. How  _dare_ you suggest I have forgotten the Ice. I have forgiven you, and I recognise that you are not your father. I am grateful to you for passing on the crown in favour of me, and I respect you and value your advice. But I am still your king, and will not be spoken to so.”

Maitimo bowed his head quickly, looking ashamed. “I am sorry, your Grace.”

Ñolofinwë lifted his chin, with a sigh. “Rise, nephew. There’s no need for titles here. I know you did not mean to wound with your words. I know you have been hurt cruelly yourself, and you must heal in your own way.”

Maitimo gave another of his weary, twisted smiles. “Forgive me. These days I fear my words are not quite as gracious and diplomatic as you remember them.”

“It is a process. You are learning.”

“Perhaps. But still, you would not want a kinslayer for a councillor, I think.”

Ñolofinwë sighed. “I have a kinslayer for a  _son_ , in case you had forgotten.”

“Do not blame Finno” said Maitimo immediately. “What he did, he only did because - ”

“Peace, Nelyo” interrupted Ñolofinwë, raising a placating hand. “I have had plenty of time to reconcile myself with Finno and his actions, and that matter is not currently my main concern. I worry about  _you_ , though.” He paused for a moment, as though deciding how much more to say. “As does my son.”

“I know” said Maitimo, with a sigh. “Uncle - ”

“Findekáno wants you safe. You could be close to him, if you took up my offer.”

Maitimo scowled. “Would you use him to get your way with me? You know how much I want to be near Findekáno, how much I hate to see him missing me. You know that giving up his presence is the cruellest price I pay to fulfil my duty in the east. But I will still pay it. Must you really use that against me?”

“I do not mean to use it  _against_  you. I am merely stating facts about my son.”

Maitimo sighed. “Findekáno has always thought far too highly of me. And perhaps it would be good for him to learn to live without me anyway, just in case…” 

“You’re not going to die, Nelyo. You mustn’t assume that.”

“I don’t, necessarily. In fact, I think…” he hesitated. “I think, uncle, that the Valar helped Finno to save me for a  _reason_ , and it wasn’t pity for either him or me. Think about it… why should Manwë care about either of us, kinslayers that we are? No.” He seemed to look into the far distance. “All this time I’ve been… recovering, I’ve been  thinking. I think that it is my duty to keep my brothers from doing anything too - ” he faltered, as though searching for the right words.

“To restrain them” said Ñolofinwë, understanding suddenly coming as he watched his nephew’s eyes.

Maitimo nodded. “To contain the effects of the Oath. To prevent anything like Alqualondë from ever happening again. That is my duty now, and I must be in the east with my brothers to do it.”

Ñolofinwë could not help but smile. “You would keep an eye on them, even still, after all these years.”

“Yes. But I am also held to the Oath myself…” he frowned, his remaining hand clenching into a fist. “Every day, I think of Moringotto, in his dark halls in the north. And every day I want him  _dead_ , his fortress broken open and crushed to rubble and dust.”

“You are not the only one who wants that” said Ñolofinwë quietly, suddenly seeing the resemblance between Maitimo and Fëanáro with almost alarming clarity. But  _no_ , he thought;  _where Fëanáro had blazed hot with rage that could span the world, Maitimo’s fire was a cold one, his hatred driven and focussed. Maitimo was steel, broken and reforged, bearing the marks of his tempering upon his face. Maitimo was all sharp edges._  He nodded. “Yet” he continued. “I think you may be right. Go where you will, Nelyafinwë.”

His nephew bowed respectfully. “Thank you uncle. Know that I am ever in your service and in your debt, and in Findekáno’s. You have been kinder to me and my brothers than we deserved. But look at me…” he passed his hand over his face with that same bitter, twisted smile once more. “My duty is marked upon my skin, for I am a living example of what shall befall us all, if we should fail.”

Ñolofinwë bowed his head. “May it never come to that.”

Maitimo bent forward to kiss his uncle’s ring of state, a bizarrely formal gesture for the two of them alone, Ñolofinwë thought. “Until my dying breath, I will do everything in my power to ensure it does not.” 


End file.
